


soy vanilla latte

by kirkspocks



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirkspocks/pseuds/kirkspocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Morning,” Kirk says, stifling a yawn. He trudges across the cafe, up to the counter Spock stands behind, and stares blearily at the menu-board on the wall. Then he jabs a finger at the glass display of baked goods. “I’ll take a Red Eye and one of these things.”</p><p>Spock blinks. “The zucchini bread?”</p><p>“Yeah, that."</p><p> </p><p>Kirk meets Spock, a student who works at a cafe near Starfleet Academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	soy vanilla latte

Midway through the semester, on an early and overcast morning in San Francisco, Spock opens up the Caldera Cafe. He turns on the lights, wipes down the counters, puts the baked goods in the display case. He sets up the coffee machine: an old, metallic thing that hisses and clanks. It is incredibly inefficient—a newer machine can produce a variety of coffees in a much short timespan—but his employer enjoyed the antiquity of it, and the one time Spock attempted to explain its inefficiency, he was met with disdain. Crafting drinks does, at least, keep Spock more occupied during his shifts.

Spock’s job at the cafe is a steady source of income, which is useful for purchasing non-course related books, food, and other miscellaneous necessities. It is also, Spock thinks, an un-intrusive way to observe his fellow students and practice getting along with other beings in a healthy manner. The interactions he has with customers are short, easy, and rarely awkward. Even his employer is beginning to get along with him—they have pleasant conversation at least twice a week. Spock does not talk to many Starfleet students, otherwise. 

As most Starfleet students cherish their sleep, the cafe typically remains empty until approximately thirty minutes before classes begin, when everyone is rushing to get to campus. 

Today, however, the door swings open within five of opening. Spock recognizes the young man who walks in as James Kirk, a student who sits a few rows in front of him in his Temporal Mechanics course. 

Nearly everyone in the Academy knows of Kirk’s father, and a sense of awe is evident whenever professors speak of him, whenever students look at him. As if they cannot believe George Kirk’s son truly attends Starfleet Academy, although the young Kirk’s attendance is only logical. Not even Spock can suppress this tendency. On the rare occurrences he and Kirk are in close proximity, Spock observes him—sees him reading, chatting with professors—and only looks away when he feels he’s been watching for too long.

“Morning,” Kirk says, stifling a yawn. He trudges across the cafe, up to the counter Spock stands behind, and stares blearily at the menu-board on the wall. Then he jabs a finger at the glass display of baked goods. “I’ll take a Red Eye and one of these things.”

Spock blinks. “The zucchini bread?”

“Yeah, that.” Kirk deposits his credits while Spock wraps the bread in parchment paper. “Sorry, not really fully-functioning yet. I was up almost all night.” 

Spock gives Kirk the slice of zucchini bread. “Studying, I presume.” 

“Yeah? You really think I spend all night studying?” Kirk says, smiling slyly.

Though he does not know Kirk personally, Spock has found him to be a strange individual—perhaps more illogical than most humans he’d encountered. Based on Spock’s observations, Kirk is smart and studious, yet he continues to perform an act of effortlessness around his peers. 

Spock has never seen Kirk in the library, or at office hours, or during guest lectures. Unlike his fellow students, Kirk rarely takes notes on his PADD during Temporal Mechanics. Earlier in the semester, Spock had believed that Kirk took advantage of his celebrity at Starfleet, that he was flippant about his studies.

“Naturally,” Spock replies.

“Well, you’re wrong. I hate studying and avoid it whenever possible.”

“Then perhaps you were reading. I sit behind you in Temporal Mechanics, and have frequently seen you reading on your PADD instead of focusing on our lecture.”

Kirk—who had been sniffing his zucchini bread, perhaps unsure of its quality—looks up at Spock with widened eyes. “That’s where I know you from! Spock, right?”

Spock nods affirmingly, though he is surprised that Kirk knows his name, as he does not speak much in class and is out of Kirk’s range of view. 

“Well, Spock,” Kirk continues, “I came here for some coffee, not to be called out for reading during class.”

“I apologize.” As if on cue, Spock hands Kirk his steaming cup, full to the brim with coffee and a single shot of espresso. “I did not intend to offend. In fact, I find your ability to simultaneously read and absorb lecture materials quite impressive.”

“Uh-huh,” Kirk mumbles, placing a lid on his paper cup. “And how, exactly, are you so certain that I’m ‘absorbing’ anything? You don’t see my test grades.”

“Although you are often reading some sort of novel or publication, you occasionally switch screens and type a few notes,” Spock explains. “Not to mention your eloquence when speaking in class and propensity for being the first to complete exams.”

“Wow, all right. You saw right through me.” Kirk’s statement might have been defensive, but he laughs, and looks more awake than he had since coming in. “I’d say you’re being nosey, but I think you’re just too smart. Observant. No wonder our professor loves you so much.”

Spock is not used to praise from strangers. He wills his cheeks and ears not to flush in an obvious display of emotion. “I appreciate the compliment,” he says.

Kirk barks another laugh, then turns to leave. “Thanks for the coffee, Spock. I’ll see you around.”

Spock stares after him through the window, though he does not know what he’s looking for. He has never had such a successful or easygoing conversation with another human student before. None that produced laughter, at least. Each time Spock began to think he’d said something potentially offensive or invasive—an occurrence Spock was familiar with—Kirk would smile, give off an air of genuine interest. 

Everything seems oddly quiet, now, the echo of Kirk’s laughter ringing in Spock’s ears. He rubs his finger against the grainy texture of the wooden countertop and stares, blankly, until the morning rush begins.

* * *

Kirk comes into the Caldera Cafe during Spock’s next shift. It’s early, but not so early that the cafe is empty. Several students have come and gone, coffees and pastries in tow, and two individuals sit at little tables, quietly reading and typing. Kirk drops his book-bag at an empty table and makes his way to Spock.

“Hey, Spock,” Kirk says. He leans up on the counter and beams at him. “I came in yesterday, but you weren’t here.”

This is, then, the third time Kirk has come to the cafe. Spock finds this surprising, considering the multitude of places to purchase coffee on campus, and clears his throat. “I work every other day.”

“Good to know. I didn’t expect to like these pastries—no offense—because I’m not a vegan, but they’re pretty damn good.” Kirk peers into the brightly lit display case, eyeing the options for today. “Are you vegan?”

“Vulcans do not eat meat.”

“Oh. Right. Even if it comes from a replicator?”

“It is a tradition,” Spock explains. “I will consume meat if necessary. Otherwise, I prefer not to.”

“Then this place must be perfect for you.” Kirk smiles, then shrugs. “I still like half-and-half in my coffee, though.”

“We have alternatives,” Spock suggests.

“Okay, then,” Kirk says, suddenly looking interested. “Surprise me.” 

Spock makes him a drink that tends to be popular with other human students, and places a warmed apple turnover on a plate to go with it. Kirk grabs the pastry immediately, bites into it and sends flaky crumbs scattering over his face and onto the counter, then makes a noise of content. He sips his coffee and promptly burns his tongue.

“I would suggest you let it cool first,” Spock says, watching him jerk the mug away from his lips.

Kirk hisses in pain and glares at the mug, affronted, as if it is the coffee’s fault and not his own. “Yeah, thanks for the tip.”

Though Spock recognizes the sarcasm, he says, “You are welcome,” and Kirk laughs in response. Spock momentarily chides himself. He had intended to make Kirk laugh, finding pleasure in seeing him smile, but this renders his action selfish and somewhat illogical. But he pushes these thoughts aside to watch Kirk take another bite of his pastry.

Kirk remains at the counter near Spock, even after he’s finished his apple turnover and can drink his coffee without burning his tongue. Spock is unsure why he chooses to do this, but does not object to his presence. 

“This is good,” Kirk says, swirling the coffee in his mug. “What’d you put in it?”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “You are an intelligent student. I am certain you can guess which flavors I’ve added to your coffee.”

Scrunching his face up in thought, Kirk peers into what’s left of his drink, seeming excited over the admittedly childish game Spock has offered. Kirk takes another sip, then says, “Well, I know it’s not almond milk, because that has a very distinct flavor. And it’s smooth, so—soy milk?”

“Yes,” Spock says.

“But it’s sweet, too.” Kirk eyes the line of pump-bottles on the countertop, filled with various flavored syrups. “It could be flavored soy milk, but there’s some, uh, sludge at the bottom of the mug. Which means you added a pump of vanilla syrup. Right?”

“That is correct.” Spock picks up towel and begins wiping down the machine, even though it is not dirty. The bright, energetic look on Kirk’s face makes his thoughts somewhat unclear, and looking elsewhere allows him to regain focus. “There is no need to look proud, Kirk. It was not a particularly challenging puzzle.”

“Aw, you’re just bitter ‘cause I got it right so fast,” Kirk says, setting down his empty mug. “You can call me Jim, by the way. Only my professors call me Kirk.”

“Then, Jim, I will give you a more difficult drink to pick apart the next time you visit,” Spock says.

They talk for some time about an assigned reading for Temporal Mechanics until a customer appears and Spock must tear away to take her order. Kirk decides to return to his his table and read from his PADD. Spock wonders if he needs something, because he looks up and smiles at Spock several times over the next hour—Spock loses exact count, despite himself—but Kirk does not say anything until he waves goodbye and heads to class.

* * *

The following day is a warm one, and the intense sunlight reminds Spock of a mild day on Vulcan. He walks at an even pace to his course in exobiology. Many students sit outdoors, at tables or on the lawn. From a distance, Spock can see Jim sprawled out in the grass, wearing sunglasses, leaning on his palm, and reading his PADD. Spock considers approaching him: he will say hello, he decides, and ask if Jim will visit the cafe tomorrow. 

However, before Spock can reach his spot on the grass, three individuals come up to Jim and sit beside him. Jim is putting his PADD away, talking and laughing, by the time Spock nears him. Judging by his animated actions, Jim is quite close with these individuals, and they would likely disapprove of Spock’s interruption. 

Avoiding Jim’s gaze as he walks past the group, Spock continues on his usual route to class.  
—

Jim does, in fact, visit the Caldera Cafe the following day, and continues visiting after that. For exactly two weeks, Jim has come to the cafe during Spock’s shifts, either early in the morning or just after the rush has quieted down.  
Spock will occasionally make a strange—but, according to Jim, ‘seriously awesome’—coffee concoction for Jim to figure out. He is not correct every time, but can usually figure out the syrup flavors, milk, and coffee roast type without much help from Spock. 

While making Jim a soy cappuccino one morning, Spock asks, “Do you come to the cafe every day?”

Jim stutters, then says, “Uh, only every other day. Whenever you’re working.” 

Spock hands Jim the drink. “Fascinating.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and then Jim looks down at the counter and fumbles with a packet of sugar. “Is it?”

Spock nods. “Would it not be easier to make coffee in your own dormitory, or to purchase it at the kiosks on campus? Surely that takes less time than walking here.”

“I don’t like replicator coffee, and all the coffee on campus sucks. Tastes like rubber.” Jim still avoids Spock’s gaze. He is having a strange amount of difficulty opening the sugar packet.

“But you are not vegan, and have told me several times that you enjoy dairy-based cream in your coffee,” Spock says. “There are several other cafes that would better adhere to your diet.”

“Yeah, but this place is still the closest to campus. Short walk, good coffee. That logical enough for you?”

“No.”

“Great,” Jim snorts. “What else do you wanna know?”

“Your reasoning still does not explain why you only come for my shifts.” 

A pink flush tinges the tips of Jim’s ears, and he stares at Spock. His lips part, but he does not speak. It is the first time Spock has seen Jim become speechless—and he cannot discern what is upsetting him. Approximately ten seconds have elapsed since Spock has posed his query, and he continues to wait patiently for Jim to answer why he’s altered his schedule simply to visit Spock. Jim finally tears open his sugar packet.

“Jim?” Spock asks, tilting his head.

“What?” Jim’s flustered expression betrays his sharp tone.

“You do not usually take sugar with your coffee.”

Jim tosses the sugar packet onto the counter and says, “God damn it.”

* * *

Although Jim had left in a frenzy the last time Spock saw him, he smiled at Spock the following day before their Temporal Mechanics lecture. Today he seems amiable also; he stands at the glass door of the cafe, smiling when he affirms that Spock is inside.

The Caldera Cafe is not actually open for business. Jim arrives precisely seven minutes before opening, but Spock has left the door unlocked for him anyways. Jim yawns twice before approaching the counter, and stifles a third when he stands in front of Spock. The bruise-tinted skin below his eyes is darker than usual. 

“Sorry I’m early.” Jim runs a hand through his hair, which is wild and uncombed. “I’ll just have a Red Eye, whenever you’re ready,” he says.

“Certainly. Would you like an extra espresso shot?”

Jim gives Spock a sleepy smile, his eyes half-closed. “I look that bad, huh?”

Spock shakes his head as he sets up the coffee machine. “I did not intend to insult you. Based on the number of times you’ve yawned since entering the cafe and the—”

Jim reaches over the counter, still smiling, and grabs Spock’s shoulder. “I’m just joking, Spock. I’ll take that extra shot.”

While making his drink—Spock puts a bagel in the toaster, too, inferring that Jim will want breakfast sooner or later—Spock says, “I understand that humans require more sleep than Vulcans. There are health risks, not to mention risks to your studies, when you stay up all night, Jim. ”

“Aw, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

The drink is an easy one to make, so Spock finishes it quickly and slides the hot mug of coffee to Jim. Jim holds it in his hands and inhales the strong, dark scent. His eyes close like he’s falling asleep on his feet. Spock finds this endearing, though he knows it is illogical, as he should rather see Jim awake and alert for the sake of his health.

“Did you stay up playing chess against the computer again?” Spock asks.

Jim looks sheepish. “I told you, that was a one time thing!”

Spock raises a brow, urging Jim to explain himself, but he takes a moment to sip at his coffee.

“No, I was just reading,” Jim sighs, placing his mug down. “There’s this nice spot up in the library, on the top floor in the right corner by the windows. It’s perfectly lit, and very private, and the chair is all big and cozy, so I go there whenever it’s open. Anyways, I got caught up reading the textbook for 20th Century Technologies, and the next thing I knew, the sun was rising.”

“I assume it was a pleasant experience nonetheless, since you were wholeheartedly engaged in the reading, and not ‘cramming’ for an exam.” 

“Oh, man, you’d know if I’d been pulling an all-nighter. I wouldn’t be coherent right now,” Jim scoffs.

“Interesting,” Spock says. “I did not expect you to be the type who finds it necessary to study in such a way.”

Jim smiles into his coffee and takes another long sip. “Really? That’s good. I try not to come off that way.”

“I have noticed that many students pride themselves on their studying habits, no matter how unhealthy or intense they may be. Is there a reason you don’t act the same?”

“Well, yeah. I try not to brag about studying. Or talk about it at all, really. But it’s—” Kirk pauses, exhales loudly. “I try hard to look like I’m not trying hard, you know? It’s stupid.”

“If you are working hard to maintain an image, you must have some good reason for it,” Spock says.

Jim shrugs. “I get myself psyched up about what people think of me. I did shitty on an exam once, and my professor started talking about my dad, how I could be like him if I worked harder. And then another time, when it looked like I was struggling, an advisor said I don’t need to be like my dad. As if I could never be as good as him, anyway. And if I act like I’m trying too hard, people will start saying I’m just trying to become my dad.”

“It is as if you cannot win,” Spock says.

“Nope,” Jim says. His sour expression dissipates. “If they can’t figure out what the hell I’m doing, they won’t bother me at all.”

Spock nods. “An interesting perspective. I suppose I understand.”

“Yeah?” Jim says, looking somewhat worried. “You ever get hassled by your parents and professors? You seem like a gold-star-child to me.”

“Quite the opposite,” Spock says. “I frequently got into altercations with my peers, as I was not fully Vulcan like they were. As an adult, I was expected to remain on Vulcan and attend an academy there, but chose to attend Starfleet instead. It has resulted in some complications between my father and I, but I believe I am better suited here.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry,” Jim says. 

“There is no need to apologize. I was only stating facts,” Spock explains. “I have no feelings on the matter.”

“Well, okay. Still. You, breaking rules and running away from home?” Jim grins, then hops up onto the countertop, so that he is sitting with his side pressed to Spock’s shoulder. “We have more in common than I thought.”

“Yes,” Spock says, looking up at Jim. “We both enjoy chess, and have difficulties regarding our respective fathers.”

Jim bursts into laughter, then, as if he cannot believe what Spock has just said. When his giggling subsides, he says, “That reminds me—we should play a game together sometime. I have a 3D board in my dorm.”

“Perhaps we can play up in the library, in your favorite spot.”

“We’d have to be quiet, though, so no angry yelling when I kick your ass.”

Spock raises a brow, and Jim snickers, then downs the rest of his coffee. He watches while Spock gathers up the toasted bagel, then enthuses over how Spock is “too good to him” until he remembers, sulkily, that the cafe does not offer real butter or cream-cheese to go with it.

Jim remains counter where the drinks are served, swinging his feet and staring out the window. In any other circumstance, Spock would not allow someone to sit in Jim’s position, as it likely violates a health safety rule. But this is Jim, and customers will not arrive for another twelve minutes, and his place on the countertop lets him be closer to Spock.

“It’s usually pretty quiet in the mornings, isn’t it?” Jim asks. He’s finished his bagel and coffee, and is buzzing, now, with all the caffeine he’s ingested. 

“Yes,” Spock says. “You are typically the first one to arrive.”

“Well, it’s the only time I really get to talk to you, seeing as how you won’t talk to me in class.”

Spock’s mouth twitches into a half-frown. “I do not want to interrupt you and your peers.”

“C’mon, Spock, you wouldn’t be interrupting anyone,” Jim snorts. “I hardly know anyone in that class. They’re just being friendly. Besides, I’d rather talk to you.”

“Why is that?”

From his lowered position and their general proximity, Spock can see the length of Jim’s eyelashes, the light freckles along his neck, the dusting of hair on his chin. 

“Talking to you just feels—different,” Jim says, voice rasping, smile honest. “I don’t need to project some image of myself around you. You figured out that I was a bookworm before I even knew your name. No one else knows I like reading textbooks in my free time.”

Spock takes a moment to breathe, then says, “I am glad you feel comfortable with me, Jim. I feel the same.”

Jim leans over and touches his forehead to Spock’s. Somehow, Spock is not taken aback, although he had not predicted this to happen, had not even calculated the likelihood of such an event. He realizes, suddenly, that he’s come to accept Jim’s spontaneity. There is a warm sensation beneath Spock’s own skin, and then Jim kisses him softly, cautiously. 

They are apart for only a moment before Spock presses their lips together once more, and then he slides his index and middle fingers over Jim’s, so that they are kissing with their mouths and with their hands. 

Jim kisses as if he’s just woken up, warm and slow. He tastes bitter, like coffee, and it is pleasantly unfamiliar to Spock. When they pull apart, Jim stays close, his hand lingering on Spock’s. 

“I actually have a meeting with my advisor in ten minutes,” Jim says. “A new one, not the asshole who said I wasn’t as good as my dad.” The way he slides his fingers along Spock’s—he’d picked up on the Vulcan ritual quite quickly—makes the hair on the back of Spock’s neck prick up. 

“I am pleased to hear you’ve found a more suitable advisor.” Spock wants to kiss Jim again, perhaps on his neck or his rounded ears, but he refrains. “The morning rush will begin soon.”

“Should probably get off the counter, then.” Jim sneaks a kiss to Spock’s cheek, then slides down and gathers up his bag. “I’ll message you so we can plan our chess date. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Spock says. “I will see you later, Jim.”

Eyes excited and bright, Jim jogs out the door, nearly bumping into the two students approaching the cafe. Spock watches after him through the window, watches the way his head ducks down to hide his wide smile and flushed cheeks. The morning begins slow. For once, Spock does not care about the inefficiency of the coffee machine, watching the espresso slowly drip out of it. His mind is elsewhere, thinking of the top floor of the library, of strange coffee and chess games and Jim.

**Author's Note:**

> my dear friend annie requested, "college au spock works at a vegan store and a carnivorous kirk attempts to court him by shopping there during his shifts." then this happened.
> 
> find me at kirkspocks.tumblr.com!


End file.
